


A Friend to Talk To

by themadmage



Series: themadmage's Harry Potter one-shots and standalones [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Family, Gen, Homesickness, Loneliness, Point of View Ginny Weasley, Possession, Under the Influence of Horcruxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 16:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19212817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themadmage/pseuds/themadmage
Summary: For the first time in her life, Ginny Weasley was alone. And then- she wasn't.





	A Friend to Talk To

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure this has been done before, but I was reading another story and got to thinking about Ginny and how easy it must have been for Tom Riddle's soul to prey on her, eleven and alone.
> 
> The timeline is a little wobbly compared to canon because I was doing this mostly by memory, so just play along.

Loneliness was something that didn't exist in the Burrow. Ginny had been born when Bill was ten. The youngest of seven siblings and the only girl, her parents and her brothers doted on her without end. One by one (or two, in the case of the twins) her brothers had left to go to Hogwarts, but it hadn't been lonely. Fewer brothers at home meant more time that her parents - her mum, especially, while her dad was at work - devoted to each of those still young enough to be at home. Ginny had thought she'd known loneliness last year, after Ron left and she was the only Weasley kid at home, after she had cried in King's Cross and chased after the train. She'd been wrong. 

At home at the Burrow, with just her mum and dad, Ginny had been a bit bored but there had never been space to truly be lonely. Her mum's doting had been borderline smothering when it was all focused on her - she'd had a hard enough time finding space to breathe that she'd never been lonely. And if she was ever really in need of the company of another person her age, Luna was just across the way. 

It seemed silly to her, to be lonely now that she was at Hogwarts. Four of her six brothers were here, she had three roommates keeping things from being too quiet in the night, and Luna had sat with her on the train.

But Ginny's brothers weren't interested in spending time with her. Percy was a prefect now, and was busy enforcing the rules with a satisfied smile. Ron, the closest to her in age and in her heart, had Harry Potter and the Granger girl and didn't want his kid sister mucking about with them. And the twins - she'd tattled on their pranks a few too many times for them to welcome her company. (She wouldn't have toldif they had let her join in, but they'd never realized that.) The other first year girls intimidated Ginny - not that she would ever tell anyone that. She hadn't had to  _try_ to make friends in so long (Had she ever?) that she wasn't sure how to go about it. And Luna was a Ravenclaw - sleeping in another tower and taking separate classes, inaccessible. 

Ginny would have died for her mum's smothering hugs, about now.

 

Near the end of her first week at Hogwarts, already lonely and missing the familiar smells and sounds of the Burrow, Ginny was organizing her trunk. She had no one to talk to, and nothing better to do. This felt less pathetic than sitting alone in the common room or dorm and waiting for a chance to talk to someone. 

At the bottom of her trunk Ginny found a small, black diary. It was leather, but old. Very obviously second-hand, but all of Ginny's things were at least that if not third- or fourth-hand. Opening it, Ginny was slightly surprised to see that it was totally blank but for a very faint _T. M. Riddle_ on the first page, looking as if it had been scratched there by a quill under another layer of parchment. 

It must have been a surprise going away present from her parents, Ginny thought. Perhaps they had found it in the used bookshop - a used diary with all of the pages blank was a difficult thing to find, but not unheard of, and the leather binding made it almost luxurious compared to the cheap books of parchment Ginny had used as diaries in the past. It was a thoughtful gift. The kind of thing her dad would give her. Mum's gifts were nice in the sense that she gave you something, usually something she made. Dad's were less frequent, but when he gave them they were always exactly what you needed. A diary to write in, to sort out her thoughts, was exactly what Ginny needed.

It was late, and Ginny was tired. She'd write in the diary soon, though, and thank her parents for it in her next letter home.

 

 _9 September_ , Ginny wrote.  _Hogwarts isn't what I'd hoped it would be._

She paused, nibbling on the end of her quill and unsure where to begin. Even in a private diary, Ginny preferred to have her thoughts about her before she went on rambling. It was why she always froze up completely when Harry Potter was around. Then, her breath caught in her throat as the words she'd written faded into the page and were replaced with an old-fashioned scrawl not her own.

 _Why is that?_ the diary asked.

Ginny's dad had always told his kids to never trust anything if you couldn't tell where it kept its brain, but that advice didn't make much sense to Ginny. Chessmen and portraits talked, and those things didn't have brains. They had the shape of a head, but it wasn't a real head and Ginny certainly knew there was no brain inside it. And if this diary was a gift from her dad then he must have decided that this could be another exception to that strange rule, so she wrote back.

 

Tom Riddle was  _exactly_ what Ginny needed, even more than a plain old diary would have been. He was a friend.

Ginny told her secrets to Tom, and he never judged her for them. He'd never tell her secrets - couldn't, while he was just a diary that she kept away from others' eyes in her bag. He didn't call her silly for feeling alone, or for her (admittedly embarrassing) crush on the boy-who-lived. He was an incredibly attentive listener - like Bill had been, before he went to Egypt. Ginny's parents and her other brothers loved her, but they didn't show it through patiently listening to her talk the way Bill did, and it was something she'd missed. Now, Tom listened to her just as well as she went on and on about every little thing that bothered her, that she couldn't tell to anyone else.

Ginny spent hours upon hours writing back and forth with Tom each week. She hadn't made friends with any of her roommates, or seen Luna, but it didn't seem important now that she had a friend in Tom. 

_That sounds difficult, Ginny. Tell me more._

 

She was so tired, recently. It was the middle of October, and Ginny had been going to bed early for weeks now, but she couldn't quite seem to shake the exhaustion. There were even a couple of nights when she must have been so tired that she didn't remember going to bed. She'd be in a corner of the common room, writing to Tom, and then wake up the next morning in her bed. 

There was a cold going around, and Percy hustled Ginny to Madame Pomfrey when he noticed her pale face, but Ginny didn't think the Pepper Up would do much good. She'd been tired for weeks. It was probably just difficulty adjusting to school, since Ginny had never had lessons full-time before, so she would surely feel better soon enough.

 

Early in the Halloween feast, Ginny slipped away to go to the girls' lavatory. No one paid her any mind when she left. None of the Gryffindors ever did. She must have spaced out in the restroom - she was still so exhausted - because the next thing she knew the feast was ending and she was standing with a crowd in the corridor, looking at a petrified cat and an ominous message.

Ginny hated Mrs. Norris as much as any other student, the caretaker's cat was a menace, but she'd felt awful when she thought the poor thing was dead. Professor Dumbledore's statement that she'd been petrified by powerful Dark magic sent a different kind of horrible feeling through her. Back in the common room, Ginny immediately took out the diary.

 _Tom,_  she wrote, _I'm scared._

_What's wrong, Ginny?_

_Someone hurt the caretaker's cat, and left a warning message. I think they might hurt people, too._

_Have you told anyone else about your fears?_

_No, Tom, I can't! I'm a Gryffindor. Gryffindors aren't supposed to be scared, we're supposed to be brave._

_But you've told me._

_I trust you, Tom. You're my only friend._

 

The school was frantic, after Halloween. Everyone was trying to learn about the Chamber of Secrets, and what it meant that it was open. It didn't help that the paint (and Ginny couldn't allow herself to believe it wasn't paint, because if it wasn't paint then it was probably  _blood_ ) that had been used to write the message on the wall wasn't washing off. Filch was there every day, scrubbing at it, and Ginny was sure that the house elves had tried too, and the message was still there.

"You've got a stain on your robes," one of her roommates told her when she was getting ready for breakfast.

Ginny looked down, noticed that the robe was stained a rusty reddish color near her collar, and groaned. "These just came back from the wash, too," she muttered as she pulled off her robes to switch to a clean pair.

 

On the ninth of November the Gryffindors woke up to the news that Colin Creevy, the excitable muggle-born boy who sometimes sat with Ginny in class because he  _also_ didn't have many friends, had been petrified in the night. Ginny held the diary close to her throughout the day, comforted by its presence, and longed to find enough time alone that she could write to Tom and let him soothe her worries.

When Professor McGonagall took down names for those staying at the school over Christmas, Ginny watched Ron write his name down and waved the parchment past on her turn. She wanted out of this castle.

 

Ginny didn't go to the dueling club, preferring the silence and privacy of the near-empty common room and Tom's company, but she heard all about it. 

_Tom,_ _Harry Potter is a parselmouth! Do you think he's the Heir of Slytherin?_

_As far as I know, the Potters have no connection to Slytherin's line. I could be mistaken, however._

Ginny loved that Tom never dismissed her thoughts outright, like so many other people did. She knew Tom was older than her, even if she didn't know his exact age. He was able to give her advice when she told him about her troubles at Hogwarts too well for a fellow eleven-year-old.  _Everyone is saying that he is. They say he set a snake on another student using parseltongue at dueling club._

 _How does hearing those rumors make you feel?_ Tom was always so considerate, too. He asked about her feelings, and never seemed to tire of her long explanations. 

_Upset, I think. Harry is a nice boy. He spent time at my house this summer, and I didn't talk to him much because of my crush, but he was never mean to me or laughed when I made a fool of myself. And he defeated you-know-who! He's a hero! I don't understand how everyone can think that someone like Harry Potter would ever hurt people. Hearing them talk about him like that, and hiss at him in the halls, it makes me angry. I want to shout at them that they're wrong, but I'm not brave enough. I think maybe I shouldn't have been a Gryffindor after all. Maybe the hat only put me here because of my family, and I'd be better off in another house. But I'm not smart enough for Ravenclaw, where Luna is, and I don't think I'd want to be in Hufflepuff or Slytherin._

 

When Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick were petrified three days before the end of term, Ginny was overwhelmed.

_I'm so glad I've decided not to stay over the holidays, Tom. What could petrify a ghost? I don't think the school is safe, and I don't feel like I can talk to anyone about it._

_You can always trust me with your fears, Ginny._

_I know, Tom. Thank you._

 

Upon her arrival back at the Burrow, the first thing Ginny gave her mum was a breath-stealing hug.

The second thing was her stained robes, from so early in the year. She'd sent them down for washing a few times, but it didn't do any good. Ginny didn't have any robes to spare, if these were ruined, but her mum was an expert at salvaging clothing.

Watching her mother scrub and scrub with no effect reminded Ginny of watching Filch scrub the wall outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The message had only finally come off the walls so recently.

"What on earth did you get on these?" 

"I don't remember," Ginny replied, a cold feeling in her gut.

 _I can't remember where I've been for the attacks, Tom_ , Ginny frantically wrote, locked in her bedroom.

_What do you mean, Ginny?_

_I was spaced out when Mrs. Norris was petrified, and I've got no memory of the afternoon when the Hufflepuff and Nick were attacked. Colin was attacked in the night, but there are other times I'm realizing I've got no memory too. And my robes are stained with the same stuff that was on the wall. Tom, I think I'm losing my mind. What if I'm attacking people?_

_I'm sure it's fine, Ginny. It's probably nothing. Just a coincidence._ Tom's response was slower than usual, and twisted a knife in Ginny's gut. Tom never dismissed her fears like that. For him to change like this, right when something was really important - Ginny suddenly had a bad feeling about her only friend.

 _You're right_ , Ginny wrote in a hand that very carefully did not shake.  _I'm sure I'm just being silly._

Before Tom could reply, Ginny closed the diary and shut it in her trunk. She realized that she'd never thanked her parents for the diary, and now she doubted it was a gift from her dad after all. Her dad had told her never to trust anything that she couldn't tell where it kept its brain. Ginny vowed she'd get rid of the diary, but not here. If there really was something wrong with it then her parents could get in trouble if it was found at the Burrow, even in the trash. She'd wait until she was back at school, and get rid of it there where it wouldn't be connected to the Weasley family.

 

A few days after the start of term, Ginny found herself in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom with Tom's diary. She was ready to get rid of it, but something inside her clung to it. Tom was her only friend, and she trusted him. Even if she was going mad, that didn't make it Tom's fault. Before she could talk herself out of it, Ginny threw the diary into a toilet stall and ran from the room.

The bathroom began to flood as Moaning Myrtle shrieked.

 

On Valentine's day, Ginny blushed and mumbled her way through arranging a singing valentine for Harry Potter. If they were still speaking, Tom would have been able to help her make the poem better. Ginny just hoped that Harry liked it anyway.

When she watched with a bright red face as the gnome tackled Harry to the ground, Ginny wished she'd never done it. Everyone watched and laughed as her poem was sang out, and she felt like sinking into the ground and never coming out. Then, when Malfoy held up an all-too-familiar diary, the heat of embarrassment was replaced with cold terror.

 

Ginny couldn't let Harry keep Tom's diary. If she was right, and it was something awful, then he could get hurt. If she was  _wrong_ , then Tom might tell someone her secrets. He hadn't been able to when she'd kept the diary with her, day and night, but she didn't know how much she trusted him in someone else's hands. For all she knew, Tom would be perfectly loyal to whoever was writing in the diary at that moment, regardless of their previous friendship.

Breaking into the second year boys' dorm to steal the diary back wasn't ideal, but it was the best solution Ginny could come up with. She couldn't tell a teacher, or she might have to tell them that she might have been the one to do those attacks first term.

Still, Ginny wavered back and forth in her resolve for several weeks, and it was the middle of May before she stole the diary back.

 

Tom's diary felt familiar and comfortable in Ginny's hands, and writing in it again was only too natural.

_Tom?_

_Ginny? I was surprised when someone else wrote to me. I thought something might have happened to you._

_I'm sorry, Tom. I just got so scared over break, and then you were acting strangely._

_I should have listened to your worries, Ginny. I only thought to calm you, first._

 

Ginny's relief at Tom's apology was short-lived. The following day, Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater were attacked, and once again Ginny had no memory of the afternoon. 

Whether Tom's diary was the source of her apparent madness or not, Ginny knew she couldn't handle this alone. She was still too afraid of being expelled, or possibly even sent to Azkaban like Hagrid had been after the last attack, to tell a teacher. 

Ron, however, her closest brother and childhood confidante, had told the family all about his adventure last year with Harry and Hermione when they saved the philosopher's stone. They might know what to do to help her, and would never see her arrested.

 

Percy sent her away, just as she was about to tell Harry and Ron about her memory loss and Tom's diary. He was so caught up in his secret girlfriend - something she hardly even remembered, given everything else happening in the school - that he couldn't see how afraid she was as she worked up the nerve to confess.

Tom changed, after she tried to tell someone. He was no longer an attentive listener and a trustworthy friend. 

_That's the second time you've tried to get rid of me, Ginny. Is my loyalty not enough for you?_

_Tom, I'm scared._

_You're scared of me._

Ginny didn't have time to answer. Suddenly, her head felt as though it would split open and she was pushed aside. Half-conscious, she remembered. She remembered killing the school's roosters, setting the basilisk on the castle's inhabitants, and writing that message on the wall. Ginny tried to scream, but her body didn't cooperate.

 _I've taken control for now, Ginny,_ an unfamiliar voice said in her mind.  _Just to see if you can be trusted. I cannot suppress you entirely, or others may become suspicious._

 

For three days, Ginny fought and screamed in her mind while her body walked around without her input. Tom attended her classes, and used her face to say that everything was fine while she battled for freedom.

 

 _It won't be long now, Ginny_ , Tom said in her mind on the first of June. Once again she wrote a message on the wall. It would be a suicide note, if she were truly the one writing it. Ginny faded further as her body hissed to open the sinks in the very bathroom where she'd tried to discard Tom's diary. In the Chamber of Secrets, so familiar with the return of her memories, she sunk to the floor in unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Harry shows up to save her, Ginny is "perfectly happy again" within the week, according to Rowling. The end!
> 
> Just kidding, get this girl some therapy.


End file.
